


Cosmic Love

by bookishandi



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Dimension Cannon, F/M, Imaginary Thirteenth Doctor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-01
Updated: 2015-03-01
Packaged: 2018-03-15 19:17:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,473
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3458783
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bookishandi/pseuds/bookishandi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jumping across dimensions was never supposed to be easy. No one warned her it might be so hard.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cosmic Love

**Author's Note:**

> This was written before Day of the Doctor/Night of the Doctor and the War Doctor/regeneration restart they brought with them. This fic assumes Eight is the Doctor who fought in the Time War, and that the Thirteenth Doctor is three regenerations after Ten.

In the final stages of programming, Ian decided that they should install a launch code. That way they could protect the fabric of space-time if anything happened to Rose or anyone else got their hands on the cannon. Pete wanted it to be completely confidential; no one but Rose should know it.

They put her in a locked room, disabled all security cameras, and left her to enter the alphanumeric code directly into the cannon. To be honest, the moment they asked her she knew what to use. She completely trusted the two other people in the multiverse that might guess it. More than that, she liked the feeling of cosmic guidance; that she trusted herself to bring her home.

BAD WOLF

She felt the cannon vibrate to life under her hands. For the first time since losing her grip on the lever, she knew, deep in her bones, that this would all work out.

\---

He is broken. His heart, his limbs, his soul. He is dying, and it will be slow and painful. If he is honest, he is done. He’s saved the universe at the cost of his people and his soul.

He stumbles out of the TARDIS onto the mossy ground of Hadlor V—always nice when the old girl takes him where he asks. A large asteroid will strike Hadlor V in approximately thirty-two minutes and explode. The planet will disintegrate utterly, vaporized by the high-speed collision and forgotten in the annals of history. His body will be among the atoms, and the Time Lords will be no more. The universe will probably be better off for it.

He feels bad for the TARDIS, but he also can’t fathom her being with anyone else. Perhaps he is a jealous lover, but the time for such worries is over. If she didn’t want to go, she wouldn’t have brought him here.  She has a mind of her own, after all.

He begins slipping out of consciousness, hoping for relief. But every time he closes his eyes he sees Gallifrey burning and he is awake again, hearts pounding a drum roll in his chest. Finally he hears a _whoosh_ and sighs in thanks to the asteroid for entering the planet’s orbit so quickly. But then there are hands, small but strong, pushing his hair from his face and feeling his chest for a heartbeat. It is a woman, humanoid, but his vision is blurring and he can only make out colors beyond that. One in particular: gold.

She does not speak, just pulls him up and drags his body back into the TARDIS. She is small, but strong. Or perhaps he is just that frail now—the heavy weight of a soul left behind the moment he banished two races from time and space. This is not what he wants, but the universe—and this woman, too—apparently is not interested in letting him rest. He can tell the TARDIS is happy that their mutual destruction has been delayed, but he also picks up on an odd sense of welcome for the girl who’s carried him back home. It’s future tense. Very odd.

“Can’t let you see me,” she whispers into his ear. Twenty-first century, English. Right now he cannot make out anything more specific than that—his senses are fading fast. “Shouldn’t even be talking, really.”

“Who?” he gasps. The regeneration energy is building, soon it will be too late to stop it.

“Can’t say that, neither. But your story’s not done yet,” she is careful to keep out of his vision. Smart girl. Clearly from his future somehow. He wishes, briefly, he could file away some detail to prepare himself. Unlikely, considering the increasing pounding of his head and blurring of his vision.

“All right, then,” he gasps. Her hands are cool against his forehead. He feels them move away, only to be replaced with her lips. He is grateful for compassion he doesn’t deserve. He pushes his luck: “Will you stay with me?”

“’Course,” she sighs. He closes his eyes.

\---

She encountered other versions of the Doctor before, but this is the first time she’s seen a familiar face. It looks different, though, in the frock coat and frills. She would laugh, but she’s now discovered that even if you know what’s coming, regeneration isn’t easy to watch. This is her first; his ice-blue eyes behind closed lids. He’ll carry the weight of the world on his leather-clad shoulders and tell her to run. But she has to be gone before he wakes up. She caresses the unfamiliar-but-familiar console before inputting the launch code.

\---

He sees it one night, a flash in a dream during the year that never was. Gold. He hears a voice.

 After Martha leaves, he decides to investigate. It’s a wild thought, and his desire to _see_ is dangerous. But he is feeling a tremendous amount of both guilt and self-pity, so he decides to bugger it all and sets the TARDIS for Hadlor V. He’s careful to land at least an hour early. He wants to approach on foot, watch from the cover of Hadlor’s thick forests. His timing is perfect, he congratulates himself as the TARDIS materializes. He watches as he stumbles out; memories of those desperate moments filling his hearts. He wants to hang his head, cry out at the memory, but he is here for a reason. He shakes himself, watches.

There is the _whoosh_. The younger him is welcoming his imminent death, but he is desperately seeking a spark of life and hope.

And there she is.

It’s Rose, of course, he sees it now. He’s far enough away that he cannot make out the details—how old she is, when this might have happened for her. He suspects it had something to do with her possession by the Bad Wolf. It’s always been Rose.

 

* * *

As she disappears from this timespace reality, she realizes she saw a flash of pinstripe in the trees when she was dragging the Doctor into the TARDIS. She didn’t know whether she wanted it to be real or her imagination. 

So close but too late: the story of her life.

She reappears in a familiar spot, just around the corner from her apartment at the Powell Estates. Where, just a few years ago, her Doctor disappeared for just a moment. She remembered being certain she’d made a mistake. Then he reappeared and she ran into the TARDIS doors, ‘cause _it travels in time_.

\---

His time is nearly out. He’s seen D…Yes, he’s seen everyone except her, this last stop, the last person he wants to see with these eyes. _Rose._

When he hears her voice, his hearts swell. He is, for a moment, home—at least the closest thing to it since Gallifrey. Even Jackie’s drawl is a comfort. Good old Jackie. He shouldn’t be here, really. This is risky. He might mess up everything they had after he regenerated. But he figures it is New Year, both of the may have had a bit to drink, it is cold, and he will not step out of the shadows. He should be safe. He deserves this one last indulgence, after everything.

They come into his vision, and she is wearing a scarf he remembers fondly—she wore it when she leapt into his arms after pronouncing Raxacoricofallapatorius, and he took advantage of an extra tight squeeze; the day he thought he might have lost her to Mickey for good. It was around her neck when she came back to him and he had to look like he didn’t really care, like he was concerned and not the least bit overjoyed. They had wasted so much time then.

He keeps a hand on the TARDIS door or he knows he’ll lose control and run to her, wrap his arms around her and spin while the ends of that lovely scarf track circles in the snow.

\---

A bit of construction places her in a pretty specific point in time—Mrs. Chatterjee’s flat had a gas leak and caught fire, blowing out the windows of the whole floor. She had just gotten her job at Henrik’s; she was almost late her second day because the emergency vehicles blocked traffic around the block. It was around New Year’s, 2005. This is too early…she wasn’t looking for herself.

Still, she decides to investigate and give the cannon a rest. She walks around the corner and quickly ducks back behind the wall. She thinks she see the TARDIS, doesn’t want to risk walking into the middle of something and causing a paradox. She peeks, keeping her body hidden, and sees sees the Doctor, her Doctor, the one she’s looking for. He’s grasping the TARDIS door as though he can’t stand without it and he’s talking to someone... The air leaves her lungs in one great _whoosh_ as she realizes. _The Doctor_ was that drunk bloke on New Year’s Eve, the cute one—totally sloshed but really great hair—she told Shireen about as soon as she got in. How could she have forgotten?

Shaking, she leans back against the wall and tries to catch her breath. Somehow, it only seems right that they’ve been poking around in each other’s time lines before they even met. She looks around the corner again, and sees that she’s gone and he’s alone. Something is wrong—he’s falling over himself, tripping in the snow. She can’t stop herself when he falls again, his bare hands grasping for something beneath the snow. She pushes off the wall to go to him  but jerks back. She spins, ready to punch whoever’s interfered.

 “You’re an Ood.” It’s not a question but she wants an answer.

“Yes,” the Ood responds. “You are Rose Tyler.”

“What of it?” She pulls her arm violent from his. This one has a symbol on its chest. Greek, that pointy E thing…Sigma? Her eyes narrows, there’s something different about this one.

“You must not go to him.”

“But he’s dying,” she turns to look again. He’s on his stomach, breathing heavy. “He’s all alone,” she chokes.

“I will go to him so that he will not be alone. His song is ending,” the Ood turns away and begins to walk toward the open space.

“I can’t leave him,” she grabs the Ood’s arm and pulls him to face her. The Ood’s eyes blink gently. “He doesn’t even know you…”

“He does know me, Rose Tyler,” he answers. “You may stay, but he cannot see you. His time has come.” She lets the Ood go, watches as he walks to the Doctor. She will stay. He might not be able to see her, he won’t know she’s there, but she made her choice a long time ago.

\---

As he stumbles back to the TARDIS, he lets the Oodsong fill his hearts and mind. It’s a small measure of comfort when he knows what’s coming. He reaches the door, pausing for a moment to ready himself when he hears a voice he recognizes. He closes his eyes and smiles, enjoying the dream that Rose’s voice is amongst the choir. He steps inside and turns to close the door, taking in one last look at the somehow-lovely concrete of the Powell Estates.

There she is. Rose Tyler, dimension cannon in hand, breathing heavily as though she’s been running. She must have been watching the whole time. Oh, Rose.

\---

Her eyes lock with his for the briefest of moments before he smiles and closes the TARDIS door.

 

* * *

 

She keeps jumping. She has to be perfect. Too early and the Doctor won’t be able to do anything or she could undo everything. Too late, and…that’s more obvious. Sometimes, when she can tell it’s her Doctor and she’s too early, it’s hard to not just sod the consequences and run to him. But it’s not just her; it’s for Earth and all the other planets. Even that might not be enough, but it’s also for her mum and Mickey and Pete and Tony.

 She’s circling her target, landing a few years too soon or a decade too late. The Bad Wolf hasn’t lead her astray, there’s always something to do with the Doctor wherever she lands. She’s seen so many of his faces, even gotten to meet a few of his companions. She’s always careful not to give anything away. She sees Sarah Jane, but steers clear of her, just in case.

She discovers he’s travelling with a Donna Noble when she needs to find him. It’s probably time to check back in to her home universe and reconfigure the cannon around her. From what she’s seen, she likes her. She’s funny and brash and keeps him honest. She fights back jealousy, though—that’s it’s not her with him. She sees them once, walking down a London street, laughing; she can only turn back around the corner and cry. She feels like a silly little girl for it but she misses him so much. She decides to make one more jump before she checks back home. No, with Torchwood. Home is a block away, laughing at Donna Noble’s jokes.

\---

He knew this day would come, even Time Lords can’t stop death forever. He just expected something more epic or exotic than the twenty-first century. Cardiff, of all places. Ah, well. It’s a good death, and it’s time. He’s lived too long. He just needs to get up and get to the TARDIS before he passes out again. It’s too dangerous for him to leave his corpse in the open. One Time Lord cell in the right hands…

He pushes up off his belly, arms shaking. His legs aren’t cooperating. Come to think of it, he can’t feel them. This will be a problem. He moves his upper body, pain intense enough that he’s sure without his respiratory bypass he’s have already passed out. He’s sure one heart is gone. He’s not looking down, afraid to see the blood he guesses is pouring from his side. He looks around him. He couldn’t manage to stop the Rift’s implosion early enough to prevent earthquake. Streets were torn up, the buildings closest to the rifts were destroyed. Hanifa managed to evacuate the area in time, so the human damage had been minimized. But…he hadn’t been able to protect her when the Reapers appeared. He is such a fool. It is definitely time.

He scoots himself against a nearby wall, watches the blood trail forming. This will be a problem. Hopefully, no one will guess it’s Time Lord blood and wash it away. It looks human enough. They’ll be surprised there’s not more. He breathes deeply and closes his eyes when he hears a _whoosh_.

He’s relieved and surprised but if he’s honest, he half-expects her to show up. She looks around, he sees sadness in her eyes. She never could deal with the physical signs of destruction, her heart was too big for it. She sees him, runs toward him.

“What happened here?” She asks, assessing his body for injuries before she even looks up at his face. Of course, she wouldn’t recognize him right away. He finally got his ginger hair, a nice auburn, just a little darker than Donna’s was, but his skin was darker than it has been—almost mocha. It’s a striking look, he wears a lot of dark purples with it. Regardless, he looks rather different than she would have seen in his previous incarnations.

He doesn’t answer her. He can’t, he is too busy drinking her in. As beautiful as he remembers.

“Hey, mister, are you all right?” she asks. She touches the side of his face—oh so gently—and turns him toward her. She looks into his eyes, checking for a concussion. She jumps back, scrambling in the gravel and debris.

“Doctor?”

“Somehow I knew you’d be here, at the end,” he smiles. She picks herself up and runs back to his side. “You seem to have a sense for showing up when I’m dying alone.”  She cups his cheeks, kisses his forehead. He smiles, though it takes all his concentration to do it.

“You’ll be fine,” she whispers, resting her head against the wet spot she’s left on his.

“Not this time,” he answers. His lungs are beginning to seize. “And there’s not much time left.”

“What happened?”

“Doesn’t matter.”

“’Course it does, maybe if I go back…” she turns, trying to find her cannon. Always stubborn, this one.

“Rose, please,” he gasps. “It’s time. I’m ready. And I get to see you one last time.”

\---

Time jumping with the dimension cannon is rough, like having the wind knocked out of you. It’s nothing compared to hearing those words come from his mouth. It’s a new look for the Doctor, but all it took was one look in his eyes and she knows it’s him. That’s all it takes. She’s got him to herself for a few minutes, finally, and he’s dying. For good, apparently.

Maybe invoking the Bad Wolf wasn’t such a good idea after all.

She’s lost for a moment, staring at the air between the two of them, when he breaks the silence.

“Rose, could you do me a favor?” He asks.

“Anything,” she answers, not quite ready to look up at him yet.

“Take me back to the TARDIS? It’s around the corner,” he gestures with his head. “I’m afraid I can’t walk.”

She nods, and stands, gauging his weight. As she bends to pull him up from under his arms when she sees another figure approaching. She stands to full height again. “Who’s there?”

“Rose?” the voice calls. It’s familiar, American.

“Jack?” Her heart races. She doesn’t know if she can face the Doctor’s death alone, and the one person she really trusts to be a comfort, to help her through this. He picks up the pace and runs toward them. But he’s…

“My God, Rosie, look at you!” He doesn’t slow down before rapping his arms around her, lifting and spinning. When he sets her down the Doctor groans and she smiles despite the absurdity of the situation. He hasn’t aged a day. “Who’s this then?”

“Are you gonna flirt with me, too?” the Doctor moans and the same time Rose answers,  “Well, it’s…the Doctor.”

“When the Rift opened suddenly I figured you might have something to do with it,” he squats down next to the Doctor, looking over his injuries.

“You’re…?” Rose stands dumbfounded, watching Jack examine the dying Doctor.

“Oh, right—you’re still jumping around. I’m alive, yeah. You brought me back on the game station. I’m kind of immortal, now.”

“What?”

“Bad Wolf,” the Doctor says. “You brought life.” Rose looks at him, then shakes her head.

“You don’t look so hot, Doctor,” Jack states.

“I’m dying,” the Doctor drawls.

Rose shakes herself from her confusion. “I was going to take him to the TARDIS. Be easier with help?” Jack smiles and nods, and picks the Doctor up from under his arms.

“You grab his legs,” he nods toward the Doctor’s dead limbs and Rose follows orders. The Doctor groans as they lift him. They move slowly, Rose keeps her eyes on him all the time, wondering at her luck. She’s not sure whether it’s good or bad right now, story of the Bad Wolf. But right now she has her Doctor and Jack is alive and she’ll take it.

When they arrive at the TARDIS, she pulls the key from his pocket and opens the door. She holds it open while Jack drags him inside. The TARDIS has changed again, too. She watches while Jack carefully sets him in a chair by the console.

“Rose?” The Doctor asks weakly, looking up. She lets the door go and steps toward him, trembling. She moves in and reaches for his hand. “Rose, I’m…” he chokes. “You know.”

“Rose?” Jack asks, looking up from the Doctor.

“He’s dying,” Rose answers, not looking away from the Doctor’s face. “For good.”

“God,” Jack gasps. “Doctor?” Rose watches the Doctor nod.

“Listen,” the Doctor says, wheezing, “You have to destroy my body. If the wrong hands got a hold of even one cell…”

“I couldn’t…” Rose recoils. She’d do almost anything, but…

“Rose, you have the cannon?” The Doctor asks. She nods. “It only carries one, yeah?” She nods again.

“Right,” Jack says. He walks over to Rose and puts his hand on her shoulder. Rose does not understand what’s going on around her. These two men seem to get something she’s not seeing. She looks at Jack, searching for answers.

“Rose, you can do this. It’s only right it’s you,” he smiles at her. He brows knit together as her gaze drops to his chest. He curls a finger under her chin and raises her eyes to meet his again. “Listen, you’ll see me again soon. Here’s the thing, we won’t get a big chance to talk. But don’t feel bad about the immortal thing. It’s a gift, Rosie, in its own weird way. I’ve never felt anything but love for you.” Tears slip from her eyes as he leans in to kiss her, gently.

“This is familiar, isn’t it?” He smiles at her, then turns to the Doctor. Rose forgot for a moment, she panics that something happened. He smiles at her, then shoots a glare at Jack.

“’Suppose you’re gonna kiss me, too?” he asks. Jack laughs, then leans in and kisses the Doctor’s lips. It’s more chaste than the last time but no less meaningful.

“I love you, Doctor,” Jack says. Rose marvels as his voice cracks. Jack was not one to show such vulnerability…the years must have changed him. The Doctor doesn’t answer, but smiles.

“You’ll see me again, Jack,” he says. “Both of us, actually.” Jack nods. He grabs Rose into a hug again and then stalks from the TARDIS without a word. She watches him go.

The Doctor explains his plan to her, pausing occasionally to gasp or moan from the pain. He tells her he’s able to block the pain until now, but his systems are giving out quickly. She pretends she doesn’t hear, she has work to do yet.

With his instruction, she sets the coordinates and activates the TARDIS. She can feel her spinning through the vortex, tumbling toward its final destination. When the TARDIS stops, the Doctor asks her to open the doors. Outside, a star is dying.

“It’s beautiful,” she whispers. It’s impossibly bright, the gases around it swirling into the shape of an hourglass. It’s appropriate, she thinks.

“Rose,” he says weakly, beckons her back to him. She turns and is beside him, grasps his hands tightly.

“Doctor?”

“I know, I shouldn’t tell you, but…” he stops, swallows. “You’ll find me. Our story’s not over.”

“I’m glad,” she smiles, but she feels tears on her cheeks. “It’s probably good you told me, I don’t know if I could’ve…”

“Rose Tyler, there’s nothing you can’t handle,” he smiles. He pauses, strokes her cheek, then says, “That star is going hypernova in ten minutes. It’ll obliterate everything within 2 light years. Anything within 5 light years that survives will be sucked into the resulting black hole. I’ll be stardust. A fitting end.”

“You can’t die,” she gasps, feels something unnamable inside her break. “You can’t.”

“I can. I am. I’ve got about two minutes,” he grimaces. “You need to jump away now.”

“You know me better than that,” she shakes her head. “I made my choice a long time ago.”

“Quite right, too,” he smiles. “That’s why I left eight extra minutes.” Rose watches his chest rise and fall with a heavy breath. He opens his eyes and looks into hers. It almost burns her. “Rose Tyler, I’ve always loved you.”

She leans in and kisses him. He’s weak and losing strength, but she gives it as much passion as she can. His lips are larger than the ones she remembers, softer than she imagines. He opens his mouth slightly, and their tongues touch, gently. Another shudder breaks them apart. His body stiffens, his eyes find hers. He is afraid.

“I’ll always love you, Doctor,” she whispers. “I’ll stay with you.” She threads her fingers through his. His jaw tightens and his chest shakes, but his eyes never leave hers. She kisses his forehead as he shudders, and his grip gives way. She steps back, gasping or sobbing she’s not sure. His eyes are open but, finally, lifeless. A golden stream of light erupts from his mouth, filling the TARDIS with a gentle glow. She turns to the dying star. Its shape has changed—it is, unmistakably, a howling wolf. She turns back to the TARDIS console, and feels a voice shaking the atoms of her eardrums.

“Everything comes to dust. All things. Everything dies. But your story, and his with it, has yet to be written.”

It’s the TARDIS or the Bad Wolf or something. Familiar and dangerous, but right. She is raw, her heart is broken, but there is a future ahead of her. And she was with him at the end. He wasn’t alone. And his body is safe.

She watches the star shift from a wolf, doubling in on itself. She senses its impending explosion.  She picks up the cannon, and walks over to his body. She kisses him one last time, then closes her eyes and inputs the launch code into the cannon. “I create myself,” she whispers as she disappears from view.

 

* * *

 

The Doctor finds Rose outside, watching the stars. She’d told him, earlier that day, about her experiences while jumping with the cannon. There’s something she’s holding back, but he doesn’t push her. He’s so new and their relationship is so tender and…something. He can’t quite find the words. They will not leave each other, they love each other, but they aren’t quite ready for each other yet. He walks up beside her, places his hand on her shoulder. 

“I saw you die,” she says, her voice uncomfortably matter-of-fact for his tastes.

“Oh,” he responds. He thinks he should say something but he’s not sure how to answer that.

“I was with you, well, the other you. At the end.”

“Oh,” he says again, this time understanding her meaning. “When you were jumping?”

“Yeah.”

“Rose, I’m sorry,” he whispers. He shoves his hands in his pockets.

“I’m not,” she answers. “I mean, it was awful. But you shouldn’t be alone. Especially then. Somewhere, out there, we’re together.”

“We’re together now,” he says. She turns and looks at him, eyes really meeting his for the first time. She smiles. It is small and broken but a real smile. The first he’s seen since the beach.

“We are,” her smile broadens. “This story’s just beginning.”


End file.
